


Into the Past

by vir_tanadahl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vir_tanadahl/pseuds/vir_tanadahl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After tinkering with the time traveling magic that Alexius created, Ellana Lavellan is sent into the past. She is spat out in ancient Arlathan where she attends a masquerade ball and meets Fen'harel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is longer than I had originally thought. I've combed through the story twice, so I believe I have caught all errors. If not let me know. I hope you enjoy!

She knew this had been a bad idea, but she listened to Dorian anyway. The senseless Tevinter had convinced her to play around with the time traveling magic that Alexius had created and, of course, she foolishly agreed! With Corypheus defeated, there was time available to research different magical items, including the time travel magic. Activating the device had been a mistake; between tampering with it and supplying magic, the device spontaneously activated and engulfed Ellana once more into it’s swirling smoky green mouth.

_‘Cassandra is going to kill me.’_ Ellana thinks as she maintains her surroundings. Ellana is alone unlike the previous time that she time traveled. She is in a field of tall green grass that goes up to her waist and nothing looks familiar. The setting sun reflects in the meadow creating the illusion she is in a green ocean. She turns around and spots something she never thought she would see.

A few miles away is a forest with trees reaching higher than Ellana ever thought possible and in between the trees are crystal spires that intertwine with the fauna. Ellana’s eyes follow the trees as they go higher and higher into the sky and she sees a collection of different manors and chateaux along with what she could have guess were shops.

“Arlathan…” She whispers in awe, the vivid memory of one of her first conversations with Solas flashes in her eyes. Her heart twangs in pain at the memory. She has not thought about him recently. Perhaps that is why she agreed to tinker with unstable magic…to keep her mind busy.

With nowhere else to go, Ellana heads towards the woodland. The voices from the Well of Sorrow are echoing in her mind giving her guidance to navigate the city of her ancestors. When she reaches the clearing, she notices that small rivers are woven throughout the forest and all appear to lead to the center.

As Ellana gets closer, she hears noises of people chattering and objects moving around. Nervously, she gets closer trying to avoid being noticed. There are a small number of huts in each section that are divided by the river with a bridge connecting each area. What the Elves are dressed are strange, yet familiar. Fortunately, the simple robe, that Ellana is wearing, allows her to blend in.

Ellana enters the village tentatively and keeps her head down to avoid attracting attention. She notices that all the elves that are around her have the _vallaslin_ on their faces. Ellana unsuccessfully enters the village without notice. The elves all stare at her; confusion etched on their faces before bowing their heads to her.

Ellana remembers her face is bare. Solas had removed her _vallaslin_ after she drank from the Well. ‘These are slave markings. They think I am some noble.’ Ellana thinks. As she passes the villagers, she notes the different _vallaslin_ : she has Andruil, he has Elgar’nan, that child has Mythal.

The rivers meet to form a large lake and in the center of the lake is a spacious and grandiose palace with two broad bridges that lead into the village. There is a moving line of carts that is heading for the gates of the palace. Ellana goes to speak to one of the villagers who is closest to her, but the girl becomes frightened and runs off. The others quickly put their head down and avoid eye contact with her.

Begrudgingly, Ellana makes her way across the bridge and towards the palace unwilling to disturb the other villagers. She is trapped in Arlathan with no ability to reopen the portal that brought her here in the first place. Her options are limited and she recognizes she is going to have to be fluid in her method of escaping from this time and returning to her own.

An elf is wearing the _vallaslin_ of Mythal accidently runs into her. “My mistake, my lady. I humbly apologize.” The young girl bows her voice is impassive. It took Ellana a moment to realize that she had understood the ancient elvish that had been spoken.

Ellana response nervously, “It’s okay.” She waits to see if the girl in front of her understands the word she had just spoken. Ellana sighs in relief as the girl response.

“Is there anything you need before the masquerade, my lady? Did you need to be escorted to the changing room?” the slave politely asks.

“Masquerade? The changing room?” Ellana repeats back with confusion.

“Yes. Your dress will be located there, along with any other cosmetics you brought. Although,” the slave pauses, “there are always extra gowns if you are not pleased with what the tailor has made. I shall take you there, straight away, my lady.”

Ellana nods in agreement and follows after the young elf, “Okay, lead the way.”

Ellana is hopelessly lost in the palace by the time she reaches the changing room. The possibility of her finding a way back out the palace on her own is slim. “Here you are, my lady.” The slave announces as she opens the velvet curtain.

The room is filled will row upon rows of gowns and robes. Vanities line the farthest wall, most of which are occupied by elven ladies with slaves brushing their hair, assisting with putting on makeup or tightening the laces of their master’s gowns.

“Oh, my…” Ellana mumbles out in bewilderment. She is going to have to attend this party. If she asks the slave to take her back to the village, it may bring suspicion; on the other hand, if she attends the party, she could blend in and trick someone into helping her.

“Do you need assistance getting ready, my lady?” the slave asks. “I will be happy to assist.”

Ellana nods her head in agreement. The slave takes to her to unoccupied mirror and begins to comb through her long hair. Ellana notices in the reflection that there is a brand on the back of the slave’s hand.

“What’s that mark?” Ellana asks.

The woman that is seated next to Ellana answers the question, “Oh! She’s had her magic cut off.”

Ellana looks at the woman. She has extremely curly blonde hair that falls past her bum; her silvery-gray eyes show a clear disinterest in the topic at hand. A slave with June’s _vassaslin_ is massaging oil into the tresses of the woman.

“She’s tranquil?” Ellana questions as her hair is being pulled gently into a loose Orlesian (or what Ellana knows as Orlesian) braid.

The woman shrugs nonchalantly and turns to look at Ellana; her shoulder rose slightly. “Tranquil? I’ve never heard such a term being used to describe those who received a branding.” The woman has an air of superiority about her. “I am Imra, who are you?” she asks as another slave beings to place a white powder on her face.

“My name is Ellana,” Ellana answers quietly, turning her attention back onto the mirror. Her hair is fully braided, and the slave gently pulls the braid to the side.

“Showing off the neck is very popular,” Imra comments with a smile, her lips painted a bright red. “Who do you plan on trying to woo tonight?” she adds.

“Woo? You mean courting?” Ellana turns to look at the woman, but the slave has a hold on her chin. She starts applying a similar powder that had been used Imra on onto Ellana.

Imra laughs, “Of course! The Pantheon holds this party once every century, or so. I’m hoping to catch the attention of a certain Lord in the west Elvhenan, I won’t tell you who.” She winks.

 

“The Elven pantheon? They are here?” Ellana squeaks out, unsure how to proceed from here.

“Of course. During this time is also when families ask to become a follower and ask for them to bestow blessings.” Imra pauses thoughtfully, “Each family must add something to be allowed into that part of society. It’s usually slaves, but it has been other things.” Imra looks at her again and whispers, “Well, all of the pantheon aside from Fen’harel. He doesn’t keep slaves.”

“The Dread Wolf?” Ellana gasps in shock. _‘Did the Dalish get this wrong too?_ ’ she thinks. Imra’s face turns into horror. “Do not use his name that way! Are you deranged?” she nearly shouted.

Ellana hesitates before apologizing. “I’m sorry.” Imra glares at her. “Well, I’m not the God. Just don’t let anyone else hear you call him that.” She answers coldly.

“Actually,” her gaze softens, “I’m surprised. Most girls your age find the God very attractive. I thought so once too.” Imra giggles.

“Girls my age?” Ellana questions as the slave finished the last bit of makeup. Ellana glances at the mirror and gasps in surprise. Her eyes appear smoky that intensifies the golden hue of her irises, and her lips are a dark red that compliment her complexion.

“Yes, you have to be about seven hundred years old, no?” Imra queries before commenting on Ellana’s appearance. “You will attract a lot of attention tonight.” She says with a grin.

“My lady, it is time for you to get a dress,” The slave with June’s markings speaks up. “Quite right!” Imra agrees, moving away from the vanity. “See you at the party, Ellana.” She says before departing to find her dress.

“Will you like to find your dress as well, my lady?” the slave asks patiently. Ellana turns to look at her. “What’s your name?” Ellana questions gently. The slave pauses before answering, “I do not remember. Most masters call me ‘pet,' if you find that suitable.”

Ellana’s heart breaks from the confession. How long has she been like this? She thinks as she moves to find a dress to wear. “That is not suitable…” Ellana whispers and starts looking at each dress.

The slave does not respond and starts to assist in looking for a gown. “How does this fair, my lady?” she asks as she holds out the dress to Ellana. The gown is a dark purple with a strapless heart shaped bodice decorated with lace and sparkling jewels. The bodice stopped under the breast and flowed out into an ethereal silk bottom.

“That’s beautiful, but is it…appropriate?” Ellana asks as she plays with the silk bottom. The servant nods to indicate that it is appropriate. “Well, I suppose this will do,” Ellana moans and follows the girl to a changing room.

Inside the girl quickly removes Ellana’s simple gown and helps her into the borrowed gown. “I believe this mask will be sufficient, my lady.” The girl says as she holds a golden mask that is covered with thin lace with seven, small glowing blue gems embedded in it.

Ellana can feel the pull of the gems. “Is that lyrium?” she asks as she gently touches the jewels. The girl nods silently as begins to place the mask on to Ellana’s face. “You are ready, my lady.”

Ellana sighs before asking, “Will you be taking me to the ballroom?” The girl thinks about the request before nodding and began to walk away.

As they approached the doors to the vestibule, a man approaches them, anger clearly in his body language. “There you are, pet!” he snaps and grabs the girl by the arm.

The girl does not show fear. “I was helping.” She replies plainly. The man raises his hand and Ellana steps between them. “I’m terribly sorry,” Ellana says quickly and sweetly. The glare through the masked man is unambiguous, and his hand is still raised ready to strike.

The hall is silenced, and all eyes are on them. “Your _slave_ ,” Ellana tries to hide the bitterness in her voice at the word, “has been very helpful. I distracted her from your orders. The fault is mine. I hope you understand…with all the needs to prepare for the ball.”

The man makes an unintelligible noise and lowers his hand. “Fine!” he snaps, “get out of my site!” he yells at the slave, who walks away emotionless. He glares at Ellana for a moment before walking away from her without another word.

The chatter begins again in the hall after the man disappears around a corner. Ellana can’t shake the feeling she has just made herself very noticeable by standing up for a slave. Quietly as possible, Ellana makes her way through the vestibule and into the dance hall.

Music is being played, and she watches the other Elves mingle while staying close to the wall as to avoid interest. In the center of the dance hall there is a large dance area with couples already utilizing it. To her right on the second level that overlooks the dance hall are the Elven gods and goddesses. Ellana notices the twins first because they appear to be the most obvious to her: Falon’Din and Dirthamen. The two had waist length inky, black hair with a side of their heads shaven, but to allow them to be identified one twin had the left side cut close to their scalp, and the other had the right side. Both seem disinterested in the party.

The one with the golden bow on her back had to be Andruil. Her hair was a bright red, cut short, like Cassandra’s. Much like her namesake that the Dalish gave her, Andruil appears to be on the hunt for something.  The woman next to Andruil also possessed red hair, but it is less vivid and must longer than the other lady. Ellana assumes this woman is Sylaise. A few feet away is a smaller woman with wavy, pure white hair: Ghilan’nain. She is talking to a man with cropped auburn hair; perhaps that is June. Those two seem more interested in each other than their surroundings. Two other figures sit farther away from the others, overlooking everyone. Most likely, Ellana thinks, Mythal and Elgar’nan. All of them lack masks.

Ellana begins to take magical precautions to prevent the voices of the Well to reaching out towards Mythal. ‘ _One is missing’_ Ellana notes as she picks up a glass of wine. “How kind of you to protect that slave, all things considered.” A voice chuckles next to her. Ellana freezes, ‘ _No!_ ’ she screams in her head. ‘ _It can’t be…_ ’

She turns to face the person to who is not wearing a mask. Her eyes meet with stormy blue eyes that are all too familiar. ‘ _Solas…_ ’ She cries internally. But the man before her only has the face of Solas. Instead of a baldhead, this man has tightly woven chestnut dreadlocks that hangs over one of his shoulders with the sides of his head carefully shaven. He smirks arrogantly as he approaches her. “Have you lost your voice now?” He comments haughtily before continuing, “I shall doubt that. I heard you a few moments ago.” He is extremely close to her, and his eyes are burrowing into hers. ‘ _Solas is Fen’harel_ …’ she thinks

Ellana takes a drink from her wine before answering, “I haven’t lost my voice.”

‘ _A sign of nervousness’_ Fen’harel notes silently as he places his arm just above her head, towering over her. “Are you nervous, my lady?” he whispers seductively as he gets closer to her face.

He watches as her eyes widen and then she is gone. She is walking away from him! Fen’harel lets out a small chuckle in amusement and slowly begins to follow her. _‘Well, that certainly has not happened before._ ’ He notes with humor as he watches her bum as she walks quickly.

Ellana rushes out onto one of the balconies that overlook the courtyard. “No, no, no” she mutters as she clutches the railing. She closes her eyes and tries to breathe. ‘ _Well, the Dread Wolf literally took me!_ ’ Ellana thinks bittersweetly as she chuckles out loud.

Fen’harel follows the girl on to the balcony, dismisses the guards, and closes the doors with a soft click. The girl before him is far to engulf in her thoughts to notice he has followed her. The trickster grins as he inclines against the railing next to her. “Well, I have certainly never had that sort of reaction from someone like you before.” He says with a laugh.

Ellana freezes before turning to look at him. He waits to see how she will respond. “You’re…” she pauses, licking her lips, “You’re Fen’harel.” She finishes.

He can sense her uneasiness. “That is correct.” He confirms. The girl continues to stare him down. “What did you mean by ‘someone like me’?” she asks as she steps back.

Fen’harel gazes at her. “Young and female.” He states plainly with a shrug. “Usually, the young ladies are very interested. You are the first to run.” He laughs gently.

Her expressions are stoic. “No.” She says harshly. Fen’harel grins. “Is that a challenge?” flirtatiously asks as he steps closer to her.

“No.” She repeats unmoving. Fen’harel observes her before continuing, “You have been hurt.” He asserts dryly as he takes notice the pain in her expression.

She doesn’t answer. “What fool would leave you? Even behind the mask, I can tell you are beautiful.” Fen’harel says casually, moving to sit on a bench. He watches as her eyes flicker before she answers, “A trickster.”

“Ah…” He murmurs. “Come sit.” He beckons for her to sit near him. She glances at the spot near him. “Is this a game?” she whispers as she holds herself in her arms.

“Not at all.” He answers with honesty as he rests on the bars. Slowly, she comes and sits stiffly next to him.

“Tell me about what happened,” Fen’harel demands gently. He watches as her expressions change. She clears her throat; “He didn’t want to distract me from my duties.” She whispers her body rigid with tension.

“Was he one?” he pressed. “Not at all. He needed to do something on his own. He didn’t want my help. And then, he left. He left without saying goodbye” She continued, the pain from the day she defeated Corypheus came bubbling forth. He told her what they had was real, and then he disappeared and the pain of his departure is still fresh.

Fen’harel hums lightly before standing up. He turns to her and bows, “May I have this dance, my lady?” His hand is out.

Ellana stares at him. “Shouldn’t I be the one bowing to a God, not the other way around?” she jokes weakly. He isn’t expecting that answer, and he stands straighter while laughing. “Please, do not bow.” He chuckles out.

“Why are you being nice to me? You are supposed to be cocky and arrogant.” Ellana glares at his hand.

He laughs again. “I _am_ cocky and arrogant. But I have found myself drawn to you. I would like to find out why.” He says seriously, his hand still extended.

Ellana nods and takes his hand. He guides her back into the dance hall, where the crowd divides to let them pass. All eyes are on the two as he steps onto the dance floor. Ellana keeps her head high and back straight as they begin to dance to the music.

 

“Everyone is staring…” Ellana whispers uncomfortably. Fen’harel has a wolfish grin plastered to his face out of sheer enjoyment. “They are!” he says confidently and brings her closer to him.

“So are your…friends…” Ellana grumbles as she notices the remaining of the pantheon is standing on the edge of the dance floor and are whispering amongst themselves. He cocks his head to the side, “so they are.” He confirms as he begins to speed up with the music.

“I think Andruil is planning on killing me,” Ellana states as she sees the fiery glare of the hunter. “She won’t. Not yet anyways.” Fen’harel says casually, before adding, “I will keep you safe.” He flirts.

“You are _so_ flirtatious!” Ellana announces quietly. Fen’harel gives a slight shrug, “You enjoy it.” He stated with a grin. “You _are_ cocky!” she gasps incredulously. Fen’harel dips her with a grin. He slides his hand slowly down her leg, bringing it up to his hip. “And there is the arrogance!” she nearly shrieks.  His grin is full of mischief. He is doing this to get a rise out of her. Ellana’s heartaches for Solas a who man that does not exist.

Fen’harel pulls her forward, and their faces are dangerously close to touching. Gently, Fen’harel strokes her cheek and brings her face closer to his. He watches carefully to see if she protests and she doesn’t. Just as he is about to kiss her, the grand ballroom begins to shake.

The force of the vibration causes decorations and glasses to fall to the floor. The portal that had spat Ellana out a few hours ago is reopening in the center of the room. One by one, six figures fall from the mouth of the portal.

Ellana is full of relief to see her companions. She pulls Fen’harel towards her and slaps him with great force. He stares at her in anger. “What was that for?” He snaps at her. Ellana stares at him hard. “You will find out in about one thousand years, give or take a century!” She snarls at him.

She pauses for a moment. “You have been gone for a month. Two days from when I return I will meet you at in Crestwood. The place where you left.” Confusion is written across his face. She bites her lip before gripping his collar and kisses him with force and passion.

Ellana pushes him away and runs for her companions. Iron Bull is the first one to emerge from the portal. “Bull!” She screams with joy as she pulls off her mask. On top of Iron Bull’s shoulders is Sera, with her bow tightly drawn. She is bickering, “Stupid mages and their stupid magic, yeah? This isn’t normal!” Sera direct her last statement towards Dorian, who had followed the two out. He is casually fixing his hair. “And you, stupid Tevinter mage! You caused all of this!” Sera shouts.

Bull grins at Ellana and hollers “Boss!” as he draws his sword. Dorian scoffs at Sera’s statement. “Well, it wasn’t like it was on purpose!” He shrugs and looks around. “I believe we have landed at a party. Looks like the Orlesian court.”

Cassandra grunts as she lands next to Dorian, her sword and shield drawn. “I believe we should focus on the task at hand.” She harshly declares as she pulls Dorian back. “Now, you say so, Seeker?” Varric comments with amusement as he notches an arrow into Bianca.

“You rudely rushed me away from Court to time travel to another Court, Dorian? My dear, you certainly know how to impress.” Vivienne drawls, readying her magic.

Ellana is ecstatic to see her friends; however, the pantheon is not. The pantheon is across from the group preparing for a fight. Fen’harel is staring with shock etched on his face as one of the twins pulls him closer to the pantheon.

Andruil quickly sends an arrow flying towards the intruders, which Vivienne deflects with a barrier. “Dorian, my dear, do be careful, will you? The veil is incredibly thin here.” She points out.

“Dorian, please tell me you know how to get us back?” Ellana cries as hugs Dorian. “Of course. If we manage enough power…” He mumbles nervously as the Elven pantheon creeps closer.

“Eh? Look at all this stupid elfy crap! Look at them all dressed up in their elfy bits, hah!” Sera jokes as she makes eye contact with Fen’harel. “Is that Solas, with all his elven glory, what’s that shite?” Sera howls from her spot on Iron Bull’s shoulders.

“Sera, you are an elf! And it’s not Solas.” Ellana snaps at her as Dorian mutters about different types of power. “Yeah, boss? Well, it sure looks like him.” Bull adds. Cole, who was hidden behind Iron Bull, adds with confusion in his voice, “He has his face. Magic flows, similar yet different. He is not him yet.”

“Who are you?” Elgar’nan bellows in anger as flames surround the group. “Damn mages,” Varric mutters in distress.

“Dorian, my mask!” Ellana pushes the mask into his hands. “The gems are lyrium shards. Seven of them. Can you use them to power the device?” Ellana rushes out as her and Vivienne cast a barrier spell to protect them from the flame.

“Yes!” Dorian yells with glee and begins to work while the rest stand guard. Ellana watches as Fen’harel is muttering angrily with Elgar’nan.

Elgar’nan is taller than the rest of the pantheon and his long black hair is tied at the nape of his neck. His face is flushed with anger and his broad shoulders are angled towards the Dread Wolf as they bicker.

“We can’t attack them!” Ellana cries as she forces another barrier up. “Shouldn’t we be attacking now, Rosy?” Varric asks as he steps back.

Ellana gives a strangled cry, “Now you give me a nickname? Rosy? Really?” She hears Varric laugh, “It’s better than twinkles!”

Ellana shakes her head as Vivienne produces a barrier once more. Both Ellana and Vivienne are casting area spells to keep anyone from approaching while maintain the barrier to prevent any incoming projectiles.

“Varric, we can’t kill anyone because it will mess with the future. My people are descendants from them!” Ellana answers as Mythal steps forward.

Mythal has the same intense golden eyes that she remembers from when they first met. She has long straight white-blonde hair and high cheekbones. A powerful fireball is sitting in her hand ready to be shot.

“Wait, Fle—Mythal. LISTEN.” Ellana rushes out as she releases the voices from their confinements and they connect to Mythal. Mythal’s eyes widen in surprise. “Hold your attacks!” Mythal yells, her voice shaking the room.

Everyone freezes; even Elgar’nan and Fen’harel who had been arguing up to this point remain silent. “You drank from my well,” Mythal says factually with a hint of amusement. She approaches the group, her long blue gown dragging behind her. “How are you not dead?” Mythal asks curiously.

Ellana hesitates, “You know,” she laughs, “I ask myself that question far too often.” Mythal looks unconvinced, her hand relighting the flame preparing to continue with her plan on killing the invaders. Ellana growls, “Look, I had no other choice but to drink from the Well. I respected your temple and I willing drank from the water.”

“You willingly became a slave? To a god?” Fen’harel snaps from behind Mythal. Mythal raises her hand to hush the Dread Wolf. “I didn’t know the price at the time. But my freedom for the freedom of the greater good is a trade-off I had to take.” Ellana explains quickly.

“So,” Mythal hums, “What is stopping me from commanding you to kill your friends, leaving you trapped here?” Mythal stops walking and motions for Ellana to come forward. Nervously, Ellana approaches while signaling her companions to stand down. “You,” Ellana answers directly.

“Hm.” Mythal eyes the elf and begins to circle her with a keen eye. “And so the tune begins.” She chuckles before walking away. “Go girl. Return to your own time.” Mythal waves her hand in acceptance. Elgar’nan expresses anger, but he does not argue.

“It is ready when you are, Inquisitor,” Dorian announces and returns the mask to Ellana. Ellana nods and looks to the man who was once known to her as Solas. He looks angry and she frowns. She won’t apologize.

“Alright, everyone stay close, unless of course, you want to stay here!” Dorian bellows as the portal opens. Ellana drops the mask to the ground and moves closer to the group. “Get ready…and NOW!” Dorian yells as the group descends back into the portal.

The portal spat them back out in the Great Hall of Skyhold.

“Damn. That is something to write about.” Varric jokes as he brushes off invisible dirt and helps Sera up. “You mean the elfy bits or the magic-y bits?” Sera asks as she yanks out a chair from a neighboring table and sits in it.

“Boss. Let’s not do that again.” Iron Bull asks as he pulls both Dorian and Cole up onto their feet. “The Iron Bull isn’t afraid,” Cole states. Dorian shrugs and gleams, “I thought it was a fantastic fieldtrip!”

Vivienne and Cassandra notice the Inquisitor’s rushing to grab her staff from the throne. “Where are you going?” Cassandra asks as she follows the Inquisitor down the steps and outside. “Cassandra, stay here. That is an order.” Ellana demands as she runs to the stables without changing her gown.

“But where are you going?” Cassandra asks as they both enter the stables. Ellana’s face is etched with determination. “I am headed to Crestwood. I’ll return soon.” Ellana says shortly and mounts onto a red hart.

Cassandra grunts in disapproval but allows the Inquisitor to leave, but not before telling Leliana about the Inquisitor’s departure to allow the spymaster to send spies to follow time to follow.

When Ellana arrives in Crestwood it is dark out. She immediate heads to the area that she last had an intimate moment with him. He wasn’t here. “Damn it.” She mutters trying not to cry out of frustration. “He has to show. He has to!” She nearly screams.

A twig snapping from behind her causes her to turn around in panic. Behind her is an enormous black wolf that size of a horse with abnormally large red eyes that gleam in the moonlight. “Solas?” Her voice cracks, “I mean…the Dread Wolf.”

The wolf lowers his head before a swirling bright light surrounds it and when the light fades away Solas is standing there. “This is not…” he whispers, a frown on his face. “This is not how you were meant to find out.” He finishes, not looking at the Inquisitor.

“You lied. You lied about everything!” Ellana snaps as tears flow down her face. Solas shakes his head in disagreement. “I only lied about who I was.” He tells her, his voice filled with regreat. “And even if I did tell you the truth, would you have believed me? Or would you have believed your legends that tell you I am a monster?” he hisses in anger and hurt.

“I don’t know.” She sobs, “but you shouldn’t have lied…”

She hears his feet shuffle towards her. “ _Ir abelas, ma vhenan_.” He whispers gently and pulls at her hands, placing the golden mask into her hands that she had worn a thousand years ago.

“You kept this?” She sniffles with a small, sorrowful smile. She looks at him and watches as he transforms from Solas into Fen’harel. He looks exactly how she saw him two days ago. “I deserve an explanation, Fen’harel.” Ellana whispers as she tightens her grip on the mask.

“You do.” He replies plainly has he brings her into his arms. “Perhaps, you should have changed before rushing here, _ma vhenan_ , you are wearing an antique, after all.” Fen’harel quips gently, as he brushes her hair.

Ellana snorts and replies, “You’re an antique.”

“That is not inaccurate.” Fen’harel laughs and kisses her forehead. Ellana looks up to him and touches her hand to his face. “Don’t leave again. Please, don’t,” she begs as she traces his high cheekbones and nose.

“I promise.” He confirms and takes her hand into his own and kisses the tip of her finger. Gently, he pulls her lips onto his. She pulls his body closer to his, her hands traveling up to the hair on his head, lightly pulling on the thick strands. He lets out a small growl of approval.

She breaks the kiss, her breath heavy. “There is a time for that later. You have a lot to tell me, _Fen’harel_.” She says his name seductively.

Fen’harel glares at her before smiling. They sit down and he pulls her against his chest as he explains everything that has happened from when she time traveled to his time and now. He leaves nothing out because there is nothing else to hide. She trusts him because she saw part of his world and her history, which allows her to understand that her legends are not wholly true. It has been a long time since the Dread Wolf has been happy and peaceful. With the wolf out of the bag, so to speak, the two won’t allow anything to come between them. Together, they will fight to bring a better future to Thedas.


End file.
